The Professor (ON HOLD)
by xlittleDove
Summary: (AU with 'OC') Rhetta is a an 18 year old college student with a bit of a crush on her chemistry Professor, and he knows it. She loves to antagonize him, and he knows that too. Will their secret glances and hidden attraction turn into something more meaningful, or is it all just a dream? (Rated M for future sexual content)
1. ONE

_**AU Snape X OC**_

 **Authors note - This is my 1st story but I do have a fictionpress account that I write regular fiction on with my best friend. Username KiraXlittleDove (also Wattpad if you wanna follow us!)**

 **This story is rated M for future sexual content and themes, and language.**

 **Let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!**

...

My alarm didn't go off.

There was no hot water left in the old as shit dorm bathroom, so my quick shower was cold.

Got halfway across campus...had to go back for the paper that's due today.

It's raining as my feet pound the pavement on my way to class and I didn't grab an umbrella. I step in a deep puddle, soaking my brand new pink Sperry's with muddy water. I shout at the sky, shaking my fist as it pours it's soaking, cold hate down on me-and it is truly cold because of course...it's October in London. I hate the cold, I hate the rain and I certainly hate running late. Today has started off great, just great…

And of course, it has to be a day that I'm running late for _his_ class.

My stomach clenches tightly just thinking about him. Impossibly tall, lean and handsome...he's also a total, coldhearted ass.

And what an ass he has...

I swiftly swipe my feet on the rug inside the door of the science building and dash down the hallway and up three flights of stairs to room 394, my shoes squeaking obnoxiously on the 100 year old, oak herringbone flooring all the way. The freshman chemistry lab looms in front of me and I try to sneak up to it, ducking under the observation window and all but army crawling to the alcove for the door. I peek up to chance a glance into the classroom through a window in the big black industrial double-doors.

My pulse slams into overdrive as I see _him_ striding from the back of the class in my direction-and not just from the knowledge that, once again, he knows I'm out here. No, it's because for three months, Professor Snape has starred in my most intimate fantasies. I'm not sure if I hate him or not, but I'm definitely sure he's going to reprimand me again...and I'm sure I'm going to love it.

And I know he knows I will.

It's secret, but I like to think our antagonizing game is a sort of twisted foreplay. I love it.

My lips press into a smirk as the door flies open, but I quickly retreat them into a part of shock. "I-I'm sorry professor, just running a bit late."

"A bit?" His deep, gravelly voice sends shivers down my spine. His brown eyes are so dark they must be black, glaring down at me in a cold stare with one brow imperceptibly cocked. "Miss Howell, you are an hour late."

I stand from my crouch, letting my eyes travel up his body. Black loafers, black slacks, white button down under a black vest and shiny black tie...deliciously tailored to his powerfully lean body and wide chest. I have to blink away because the professional attire is paired with a white lab coat I've often fantasized about stealing and wearing...with nothing underneath as I stroll into his office and right into his lap.

"I'm sorry, I haven't had the best morning."

"Hm." I glance back up, craning my neck to see his dark eyes flash, clearly enjoying the ten inch height difference between us-although his face retains its resting arrogance framed by inky black hair that reaches his shoulders. "I haven't either. Do you know what happens when a student is late to my class, Miss Howell?"

I plaster on innocence. "No, sir."

He looks behind himself and then steps into the empty, quiet hallway and I follow behind. I love the lab coat, but I wish it wasn't there so I could stare at his ass. I don't know what it is about him that draws me in. Some sick lack of proper, structured, adult male influence, maybe? My father was never around. Some apple-from-the-tree crap? My mother always had men around and some of them noticed me. Maybe I liked the way they greedily watched me, but never dared to touch Theresa Howell's underage teenage daughter, but enjoying the view I teased them with all the same. Or maybe it's because he's mature, and not like the stupid, fumbling boys I fooled around with in high school. I'm 18 now, I need a man to teach me a thing or two about behaviour.

Professor Snape teaches chemistry...sometimes I wish he'd teach it on a deeper level.

 _Extra credit, perhaps?_ I snicker.

"Something funny, Miss Howell?" Professor Snape whirls around and I step back against the wall in reaction. He can be scary sometimes, if you push too many buttons.

"No, sir." I shake my head. "Must be catching a cold."

His dark eyes rake in my soaking appearance, and I swear I can feel his gaze, palpable, as it glides over my cheeks, my long, wet blonde hair, coming to rest with intensity on my hazel eyes. Still stoic, his face flickers with concern that makes my stomach do a little flip. "Where is your umbrella?"

In brief moments like these, I see behind his glacial visade to the deeply caring man that must reside inside him. Not a bad boy that needs saving, he's more like a statue that could use a coat of paint. People just don't become cold hearted right off the bat, something must have happened to him to make him this way...

 _Enough of that poetic nonsense._

"I forgot it." I grip the strap on my satchel, feeling embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

His lips purse, the concern gone in a blink. "What else did you forget? Besides an umbrella for the rain and your watch?"

My cheeks turn red and I furrow my brow. "Nothing."

"Really?" He reaches out, pausing only briefly as he lifts the flap on my satchel. "Are you certain?"

He steps so close to me, his scent floods my nose. My eyes flutter and I try not to bury my face in his chest. Most of the students think he's a bit unclean, but he always smells brilliant to me-like sandalwood and sage. His hair isn't always neat and orderly, like it is today, it's usually slept-in and a bit oily. He keeps long hours in the lab. So his sharp and angular face is written with dark circles under his eyes and stress lines gotten too young. He's only 34, but he seems more like 40 sometimes. All the same, he's handsome and I know he's actually clean...if a bit neglected.

"What are you-"

"No lab coat. No safety goggles." He slaps the flap back down and looks at me sternly. "You may go wait in my office, Miss Howell. Turn in your paper on my desk and you will receive a zero for the lab today."

"What?" I gasp. "But last time-"

"Silence."

I flinch at the sharpness of his whisper. Opening my eyes, I catch a glimpse of smugness in his black irises, his face mere inches from mine. I defiantely think he gets off on doing this. This is one of those moments where I'm not sure if I want to scream at him and throw a tantrum, or grab his tie and yank him to my lips. If I chose to do one or the other...I wonder what would happen?

I keep my silence.

"Last time I was lenient, and look where it got you? You took advantage of it. I'll not let that happen again." He steps back and I exhale a breath I didn't know I was holding. "I do not tolerate tardiness. You have to start on time to finish on time. There are no shortcuts in the art of chemistry. It takes care and time for perfection." He turns with a flick of his lab coat and strides back to the door. "I hope your paper isn't as lackluster as your punctuality."

I stare at the floor, worrying my lip. As much as I like my punishments for breaking his rules, I don't like disappointing him. "Don't worry, it isn't."

I hear the door pause and he steps back into my view. I can't read the expression on his face, but the heat in his eyes stirs a pool of warmth between my thighs. "I hope you're right about that, Miss Howell."

"I am." I clear my throat and give him another innocent pout, but by the way his eyes darken, I know he knows there isn't an innocent bone in my body. "I'm absolutely right about it, Professor."

"Such confidence." It isn't a compliment, no, it's more like a challenge.

My face slacks into seriousness as I walk by him. "Oh, you have no idea...Sir."

I keep walking, not daring to look back because I can still feel the scorch from his gaze as it bores into the back of my head, and I'd like to imagine...down over my hips to the swell of my perky ass in these tight skinny jeans.

 _I hope I'm not imagining all of this._ It would suck to be wrong. I don't like being wrong.


	2. TWO

**Authors note - The drinking age is 18 in the UK, so that's totally legal (unless my research is wrong, but I hate being wrong). Let me know what you think. I'm trying to keep the chapters short so they are easy to read. Thank you for reading! If you have Wattpad, this story is posted there too (username xxShadowedSunshine) on my personal page. Wanna read some werewolf romance fiction? Check out It Has to be You on fictionpress or Wattpad under the username KiraXlittleDove.**

 **Enjoy! :)**

...

Located in the basement of the science building, Professor Snape's office is highly organized. A long oak desk sits in front of a wall lined with small, glass block windows at the top with the shades pulled closed to block any sunlight. The things on the desk are ordered and perfect. A circular rug spans most of the wood floor and is free of dust and dirt. Rows of old bookshelves stuffed with ancient and modern books alike, line the two side walls and the door wall interspaced by oddities in jars, strange liquid vials and darkness-tolerant, weird-looking plants in bland terra cotta pots.

I have half a mind to break out my markers and draw things on them to brighten up the place.

"What are you doing here, Rhetta?"

I slink out of my scheming to see Harry Potter sitting in a high backed chair in front of Professor Snape's desk. I've always liked Harry. My age, 18, he's a popular boy but he seems chill, and he's not a total player like most of the other male Lion's Paw students he dorms with.

The men and women of Howard's University are separated into four colleges based on their major course of study. The freshman have to take a social and intellectual test in order to determine if their area of interest will flex with the dorm house to which they are assigned, and the other people in it. If you disagree with the test and decide you don't belong where it says you do, you can choose the dorm you go to. But most people find the test is very good at determining where you should go and no one ever really questions their result.

The Lion's Paw is one of the four, and specializes in those going into Criminal Justice or Law, the other three being the Badger's Den for Human Resources, the Raven's Claw for Science and Medicine and the Snake's Fang for Business majors-I was put in Raven's Claw because I want to be an engineer. I know Harry from the baseball team, which sometimes practices with the women's softball team. I think Harry wants to be a homicide detective, but I'm not sure.

"I was late to class." I slump down into the other high-backed chair in front of the desk and pull out my paper. Crumpled on the edges, it's kinda wet, but I don't have the time to go print off a new one so I neatly place it in the plastic in-box on Professor Snape's desk. "He said 'you have to start on time to finish on time' and sent me here. What about you?"

"The usual." Harry flashes a red demerit card. "I was 'talking in class'." He frowns, his green eyes crinkling behind his broken glasses. "But I really wasn't."

"Draco?"

"He was flirting with Hermione in the morning chem lab, and Snape blamed it on me, despite her protests." Harry sighs, sinking back in the chair and running a hand through his messy brown hair. "That asshole doesn't know when to quit."

"Which one?" I laugh, knowing Professor Snape has it out for him for some reason.

Harry laughs too, and his kind eyes settle on mine. "Draco doesn't mess with you, does he?"

I shake my head. "No. I reamed him in the nuts with a softball two weeks ago because he winked at me. He's always winking, that one." I cringe. "Always getting away with everything too. I think he sleeps with the female staff."

"I wouldn't put it past him." Harry grumbles. "He's a bit of a man whore isn't he?"

The university doesn't have much of a dress code, and there isn't any detention like there was in high school. We are adults, but the school takes sexual harassment and proper behaviour in the school's public image very seriously, so the teachers are allowed to give out demerits that can affect GPA, if accumulated. The only way to get rid of them is to do extra assignments or volunteer work around the school. It's up to the professors to determine the punishment.

An old clock ticks over the door and a comfortable silence settles down on us. Harry glances at me from time to time and I wonder what he wants. I moved here to go to this university where no one knew me, to get rid of my reckless reputation in my hometown. I have yet to pick up a boyfriend-July to now has been my longest stretch. Not that I need a boyfriend, but it's something to do to pass the time. School comes easy to me and my grades are always top notch, so I have a lot of free time. Going to the gym and softball practice keep me busy, but I do have a lot of growing, pent up energy. I've resisted the allure of Draco Malfoy because I know he's probably fooled with a good chunk of the female student population and I don't want to catch anything. And no one but Professor Snape has really made me want to rip off my lace panties and toss my inhibitions to the wind anyway.

But the way Harry looks at me is kinda cute. In a holding hands kind of way.

I smile, chucking. "What is it?"

"Nothing." He looks away, staring intently at the shades on the windows. "Just...you look nice today."

"Aww, thank you Harry." I pat his arm, grinning. I love compliments. "Thats so sweet."

His soft toned skin turns a bit red and he shifts in his seat, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and taking a breath. "The halloween masquerade is coming up."

"It is, isn't it?" I wiggle in my seat, suppressing a giggle. "Are you going?"

"Only if you are."

I bite my lip. _He might be a bit awkward sometimes, but that was damn smooth._

"Are you asking me to go with you, Mr. Potter?" I arch a brow.

"Is the answer yes?" He glances at me with a coy gleam.

 _Damn this guy._ Where is it coming from?

"Only if the question is right." I look at the perfect coat of silver polish on my nails.

"Alright," He turns to face me, our knees touching. "Rhetta Howell, would you like to-"

His proper invitation is cut short by the door flying open and being shut with an expert click. We both jump a little and look over to see Professor Snape striding across the floor, his lab coat billowing behind him in his swiftness.

I think he looks like a superhero. A dark hero that lingers in the shadows. What I would give to have all that masculine control striding toward me in the dim candlelight of his chamber. To have him stalk onto the bed where I would lie naked, and have his weight press me into the mattress as he pins me there with his hips…

 _Oh yes…_ I clasp my knees together involuntarily.

"There will be no courting in my office, Mr. Potter." He slides around the desk and plants his palm on it, glaring Harry down. "Or did you not learn your lesson this morning?"

"Excuse me, sir." I butt in with a cough, partly to get the Professor's ire on me and partly to stick up for Harry's innocence. "But it was Mr. Malfoy doing the courting, Professor, not Harry."

"Funny." Professor Snape laughs humorlessly. "Is that you under the guise of Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy?" His eyes narrow on me, not Harry, and I swallow a bit harder than normal. "Wouldn't that be something? I suggest you keep quiet, Miss Howell."

 _Jesus._ Did everyone take their sass pill this morning or what?

"Yes, sir." I focus on my hands folded in my lap, trying not to laugh. "That would be quite odd, wouldn't it? Someone else's face on someone else's face? Draco looking like Harry...although that wouldn't be very productive on his part, would it?" I know I'm toeing the line, but I chance a look at Professor Snape's face, finding everything opposite of amusement there. My stomach squirms, but I ignore it. "I'm fairly certain Draco would be getting Harry here a date to the halloween masquerade."

Harry, who had been suppressing his own laughter, snorts. "Hell yes."

"Language!" Professor Snape snaps at Harry, a muscle in his jaw twitching with anger.

"Excuse me, sir-"

"Silence, Miss Howell!"

I practically moan from the rage in his voice. I know I've gone too far and cast an apologetic look to Harry, who shrugs. _I was just going to say that we are adults and cursing isn't expressly against the rules._ I pout, a bit irked that my sass was stifled.

"Are we done, children?" Professor Snape looks from Harry and back to me, his eyes lingering on mine with a mix of disappointment and something darker before he sits in his chair and snatches my paper from the in-box. "Please wait in the hall for your turn, Mr. Potter."

 _What was that look?_ It got me all heated, I can feel my cheeks burning. _Maybe he wants to pull me across his lap and spank me…?_

Harry gets up and gives me a sympathetic 'good luck' thumbs up before slipping from the room and shutting the door. Professor Snape leafs through my paper for a minute, simmering, before snapping it shut, causing me to jump yet again.

"Pathetic." Professor Snape tosses my paper in the waste bin with careless disregard. "I thought you were more organized than this, Miss Howell."

My heart sinks and I rub my chest from the hurt. Something else is bothering him, it's not typical for him to be this mean. Mean, yes, but the way he just acted was cruel. He's never cruel to me, I'm one of his best students, academically speaking. "I-I'm sorry, sir. The rain-"

"Is not an excuse for such unprofessional work." He waves me off without looking up from his desk, turning to his computer. "You're dismissed."

Tears burn the corners of my eyes but I blink them back, my fists clenching in my lap. "My work is not unprofessional, the paper was typed with utmost attention to the standards, with properly cited references and had been thoroughly researched. It took me hours to get it just right." _Not only for a good grade, but to impress you._ I sniffle, my voice coming out in a crack. "J-just because it was a little roughed up doesn't mean it was trash."

Professor Snape says nothing as he types on the keyboard, the sound a muffled echo against the backdrop of books and the tick of the clock. I blink, swiping the back of my hand over my eyes. I stare at him for a moment, before I can't stand it anymore.

I'm mad! Maybe it is absurd to think what I think about him, maybe I was wrong about all the stolen glances in class over the past three months. He's a grown man and I'm just an 18 year old child to him. The way he watched me while I took his tests, watched me chew on the ends of my pens and crossed my legs...I swore there was something there in the depths of his keenly midnight eyes that might want me, but maybe not.

I'm getting worked up and my hands are shaking. I hate being wrong.

"I said you may go, Miss Howell."

The frigid dismissal is all the motivation I need to get my legs to the door, but I turn back with a huff. "So does that mean I get a zero for the paper too? Because of the way it looked on the outside?" A tear escapes my eye and I sob softly. "How shallow. I think you're the unprofessional one, Professor."

He looks up from the computer, but his features are blurred by my tears. I can't tell what he's thinking and he retains his icy tone, "Send in Mr. Potter, please."

I fling open the door and storm out. "You can go in now Harry."

"Rhetta, what's wrong?"

But I don't stop for Harry's worry, I hike back to the dorms in a fit.

 _I should give up this farce._ I roll over in my bed and stare out of the tiny window at the rain washing the world. I know I'm brooding, but still, it really hurt to have my hard work thrown away by _him_. If it was anyone else, I'd simply agree and ask for a re-do, but Professor Snape never just skims a paper and he never offers re-do's. He is highly intelligent so I know he got the bulk of my work from his brief read.

 _It really was crap, wasn't it?_ Just like me.

I'm good at school...but a failure at everything else. I'll never get a man who can contain me. Is it wrong to want someone to control me? I'm always in control, doing whatever I want-whoever I want. I was forced to grow up faster than most girls due to my mother and her vices. I didn't have rules, I just had a mother who didn't care what I did or didn't do with myself. I pat myself on the back everyday for not getting addicted to drugs and not dropping out of school-and using condoms and staying thoroughly clean.

She never understood me. Never understood why I didn't follow in her footsteps of failure. Never understood that I wanted to get out, get away from her and that stupid town. But I was lonely there...and I'm lonely here. I'm not alone, I have lots of friends, but I'm still...lonely.

Realizing it's pointless to get wrapped up in that old, frustrating stuff, I close my eyes, take a deep breath, shove it all back down and decide to go to my other classes for the day to get my mind off of it.

I make a note to find and ask Harry if he'll take me to one of the fraternity parties tonight, I could use a drink.


	3. THREE

**Authors note - Had this ready and wanted to post it sooner than Saturday lol. I'll post another one on Saturday too though (since this chapter doesn't have Snape in it, this one is Harry and drunk Rhetta). Let me know what you think. :)**

 **...**

The music pounds from downstairs and sounds like it's coming up from underwater. The hallway is deserted, save the long ass line for the toilet. The downstairs line was even longer so I decided to wait up here. I glance behind me, wondering where the hell Harry is with my drink. I sway on my feet, having been drinking for a few hours. I waylaid some of the boys and forced them into a shot competition, so I'm quite sloshed and I really have to pee.

Soon Harry's messy hair bounds up the stairs and he searches for me in the line. "Here you go." He grins a lopsided grin and hands me my red solo cup. Unlike me, Harry hasn't drank a single thing all night.

I feel like he's my babysitter, who knows...he might walk me home, the daredevil.

"Thanks." I roll my eyes and chug a bit of the weak beer. Harry waits in line with me and is leaning against the other side of the hall when I finish in the bathroom. I walk over to him, my legs at least somewhat steady because I lost my shoes...and my coat somewhere. "So, wanna dance?"

Harry holds out his arm to steady me as we make our way back downstairs and into the fray. A bunch of the grad students bought the supplies for the party and are strewn about having fun with the undergrad co-eds. Oliver Wood is dancing oh so seductive on a table with a dark haired girl and I'm somewhat jealous. I have a habit of watching him when I'm in the gym and he does not disappoint the eyes, especially in the crotchal region-his V is like an open invitation to sheet clawing fucking.

Ah, the grad students...a perfect mix of fun, sex and maturity.

Through the open front door of the house, I can make out bodies in the bushes doing who knows what, backlit by fireworks being launched by Fred and George Weasley. Those two are a blast but I have yet to get to know them. Fantasies of being double teamed by the twins dances through my mind and I turn to Harry.

"Put your hands on me." I take his hands and place them on my hips. Uncertainty crosses his green eyes and reminds me of all the other boys who have put their hands on me. If I lose my mind and drag him off, I know I'll be the one leading...I always am. "It's ok, Harry. Were just dancing like everyone else."

"I know." He sighs, standing there while I let go and try to get him in the mood. Eventually he loosens up and starts moving with me. "You're really good at this Rhetta."

"I am?" I smirk, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "How so?"

"I don't know, you just are?"

Clueless. Typical normal boy. But it's not unattractive, I find his awkwardness cute. Soon I give into the three sheets of mine flapping in the wind and have to take a seat. Harry shoos a couple with their lips melted together off the couch and helps me sit.

"I'm going to get you some water." Harry says. "I don't think you should drink anymore."

"Probably not." I agree, but I reach out and pull him down next to me before he can leave to fetch any water. I'm still upset from the paper incident, the alcohol numbed it, but I want something else. "Harry…"

"Oh." His hands grip the couch cushion and he laughs nervously as I climb in his lap. "Hello Rhetta."

I can feel his arousal pressed into my thigh but the thrill I seek doesn't accompany it. This is like every other time, every other boy. He will be but a balm on a ragged sunburn, brief and unsatisfying. I close my eyes and imagine Professor Snape's face is the one I'm kissing, his hair the strands my fingers tangle in. I imagine this scene is the outcome of his cruelty earlier and I'm in his lap, punishing him for making me cry. I moan, grinding into Harry's crotch. "Professor…"

"What?" Harry pulls back, pushing my shoulders. I blink, confused. "Did you just call me 'professor'?"

 _Oops_ , I said it out loud. I look at Harry with my best innocent face. "No, I don't think I did." I smile, leaning in to kiss his neck. "I said 'Potter'."

"No, Rhetta, you didn't." He scoots me out of his lap. "You are drunk, I think I should take you home."

"I don't want to go!" I cross my arms stubbornly, the room spinning around me. "Unless you take me to _your_ room." I grab his hand and place it over my breast, squeezing. "You could sober me up?"

"I don't think so." There isn't even a hint of trepidation, pause, in his voice. He takes his hand away and looks at me with sympathy? Pity? Gentlemanly respect? I can't tell but it pisses me off. "I'm going to go find your coat and shoes, stay here."

 _Like hell I will._ I glare at him as he walks away, feeling rejected for the second time today. Harry didn't fall prey to my charms or advances but that doesn't mean someone else here won't. But just as I'm eye stalking Oliver Wood again, my gaze snags on Draco Malfoy off in a darkened corner. I'm drunk, so the thought crosses my mind to go over to him and swat away the three giggling gothic girls hanging all over him and drag him off for myself. He's a player, but all them girls want him, so he must be good in the sheets.

I place my hand over my mouth so I don't vomit.

 _Never in a million years_. I stand up and try to push my way to the door, totally forgetting about shoes and coats. _I'm out, I'll walk my damn self home._

I get caught behind a girl with insanely beautiful blonde hair. She spins around and smiles a hazy smile that lights up her big gray eyes. "Rhetta Howell, a pleasure to make your acquaintance." She grabs my hands and dances me over to the door, the crowd parting almost magically around us. I notice she too has no shoes on and there are some sort of berry twigs twined up her bare legs. "I'm Luna Lovegood, by the way. Hope you enjoy the rest of your evening." She taps her bare toes on mine. "The nargles got your shoes? What a shame...I lured them here so I might catch a glimpse."

"Nargles?" This girl must be high.

"Oh yes, they are everywhere." She looks around squinting and loses all sense that I'm here as she hovers away into the sea of bodies again.

If I wasn't drunk, I might go ask her to share whatever she's on because it seems fantastic. I don't need to be high and drunk, through. Blinking this weird day off, I stumble down the front steps and stroll off into the campus grounds across the street. The cold, wet grass seizes my feet and soon it's too painful to walk.

"Fucking hell it's cold." I look up to the black blanketed sky that threatens more rain. I pull my arms into the body of my t shirt for some measure of warmth and try to find the sidewalk. My eyes blur with tears from the freezing wind and my drunkenness finally caves down on legs I can't feel anymore. My knees hit the grass and I slump over against a tree.

 _This is it._ It ain't even winter, there's no snow, but I'm gonna die from exposure anyway.

I'm vaguely aware of puking on the tree before I black out.

 _What a graceful way for someone to find me._


	4. FOUR

**Authors note - So sorry for not posting this yesterday like I had said I would. Trick or treat with my husband and daughter wore me out and I forgot! Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter. It is a romance so I do have to take certain liberties with Snape's character (things will get intense very soon). Let me know what you think! :) Thank you!**

 **...**

 _Warm. I'm so warm._

A fire crackles somewhere nearby, the pops and sizzles are comforting. Not wanting to wake yet, I roll over and let the dim, flickering light from the fire dance over my closed lids as it's blaze heats my body. I remember being very cold...but not much else. Thankful for the comfort, I yawn softly and _his_ scent invades my senses. I blink, finding a soft, fleece blanket pressed under my nose and wrapped around my body. The fluffy gray fibers of the fabric move with each breath I exhale.

I'm laying on an old style couch with green velvet upholstery and carved wooden arms, a victorian style pillow for my head. The massive fireplace looms in front of me across an expanse of soft looking rug and an ornate coffee table. The decor on the walls that I can see is very antique looking. Oil lamp sconces dot the dark walls and I follow them around to see a massive bed on the other side of the room.

I'm instantly drawn to it, so I stand. My head pounds painfully and bits and pieces of the party filter into my awareness as I walk across the heated floor toward the bed. Harry, nargles and long ass lines, it's all jumbled and none of the thoughts involve me being naked, so I ignore them-I'm not naked under this blanket either, so thats a relief. Larger than a king size with tall, carved, spiraling posts on all 4 corners, the bed has such luxury attached to it and the feel of the deep red comforter on top suggests it must have been made for a king...or at the very least, a _prince_.

I steady myself on one of the posts, wrapping my arm around it as my head spins and feeling makes it's way into my limbs. It's all so dreamy, but where the hell am I? _And why does this blanket smell like Professor Snape?_ I don't remember getting here.

"You shouldn't be up."

I gasp in shock at the sudden deep voice in the dark. Squinting, I see a figure standing just outside the open, heavy double wooden door into this room. "Hello?"

 _Goddamnit, that's how the dumb white girl dies in horror films! Who shouts 'hello' at mysterious strangers in mysterious places?_ I back up, glancing around for something to defend myself with.

"Don't worry, Miss Howell." I breath a sigh of relief to see the shadow man is Professor Snape and not Dracula or Freddy Krueger. "You're safe here."

 _Maybe I don't wanna be 'safe' with you, sir._ I lick my lips, feeling the lingering din of alcohol in my blood and the familiar reaction I get around him. _Lose the slut act already, Rhetta. He doesn't like you._

"Where am I?" I glance down to see a tray in his hands lined with a kettle and some tea cups. I wander back over to the couch and take a seat, pulling the blanket close around my shoulders.

"My chambers." Professor Snape sets the tray on the coffee table and pours a fragrant liquid into one of the porcelain tea cups before handing it to me. "Drink this, it'll help with the headache."

As I bring the steaming cup to my lips, the realization dawns on me. He said I was in his chamber...so that bed is _his_. Giddy nerves filter into my stomach, but it makes me nauseous. I quickly down the flavorful, but bitter, tea as swiftly as humanly possible without burning myself and find that my headache dissipates almost instantly, the nausea too. "Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome, Miss Howell." Professor Snape had taken a seat on the couch with me and is staring into the fire, one long leg perched on the knee of the other by a foot, clad in house slippers. He is wearing pajamas, I assume, and a black bathrobe tied at the waist. I've never seen him so casual, so venerable. "You're lucky I found you when I did." His dark eyes assesses me. "What were you doing outside the science building at one in the morning with no coat or shoes?"

I turn away in embarrassment, remembering now that I had thrown up everywhere and probably smelled like an entire liquor store with all the bottles broken open. Hastily, I huff, trying to see if my breath reeks, but I can't tell from the fragrance of the tea clouding it. "I don't really remember. I'm sure you could tell I was quite drunk."

"Indeed." He looks incredibly tired and I ache to comfort him.

 _What are you thinking? He made you cry._ I shoo away those thoughts and steele myself. Glancing at a clock positioned on the mantle over the fireplace, I see that it's nearly four in the morning. "Why didn't you just take me to the hospital or something?"

"You did not appear to be injured." He explains, shifting on the couch. My leg tingles where his presses against mine. "And I needed to get you somewhere warm, quickly."

"So you drove me to your house?"

"No. I carried you to my apartment in the science building." He motions to the room with a finger. "I live here, on school grounds like the rest of the staff."

"The staff lives on campus?"

"As do all the students."

As odd as that information suddenly seems, a lot of things make sense now. The professors are never late and I've often seen the headmaster, Dr. Dumbledore, in the cafeteria in the mornings with a toothbrush behind his ear. And Professor McGonagall and the caretaker, Mr. Filch, have cats that follow them everywhere. _Must be their pets._

"So you found me out there...what were you doing out at one in the morning?" _And how long had I been out there anyway? What time was it when I left the party? How long have I been asleep?_ Those questions seem to linger in the back of my mind like blood pooled from lying for too long. Blinking hard, I clear my throat. "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Are you upset that I rescued you?" His voice is a low rasp that makes my stomach flutter. I shake my head no, focusing on the way the firelight glints in his eyes, like black pearls. I can't tell what's there though, concern, scorn? "You know, Miss Howell, you shouldn't drink."

"I'm an adult, Professor."

I see anger and deep hurt cross his eyes, but he doesn't act on it. Curious, I want to ask him about it, but I can't. The atmosphere between us changes entirely and my heart starts beating rapidly.

"You are, aren't you?" His lips pull up at the corner and his hand comes down to tuck a strand of golden hair behind my ear.

He's never touched me before.

His hand is cool to the touch, rough from years of hard work in a chemistry lab but graceful in its movement as he caresses the shell of my ear. My body tenses, but I'm unsure what to do. It's one thing to fantasize about him touching me, it's a whole other experience to actually be touched. My lips part in a little pant and I'm riveted to his gaze.

"What are you thinking?" He asks, curious...almost anxiously. There is a pull so strong in his eyes I fear I might go under, a sexual current that seizes me so forcefully that I feel like I belong to him because of it. "What are all those thoughts behind your eyes when you look at me?"

"I don't know." My voice isn't as strong as I'd like, but I grasp at my confidence all the same. "Are they the same thoughts in your eyes when you look at me?"

He is very quiet, half a minute passes before I see any change in his expression that doesn't signal glorious danger. His lips part, his body angling more toward me, his hand moving to cup my chin. "You are a temptation."

 _He feels this too._ I know he does. He wants me... _but why was he so mean yesterday?_

"How so?" I blink, heavy. My feelings are on the same wavelength as his, he is _very_ tempting. Every intimate fantasy staring his wicked, secret, allure comes to the surface and dashes my brief doubt. "I could...I could say…"

"Where is your wit now?" He croons with the mocking tone I'm so used to hearing. "That sharp tongue of yours that you can't control?"

My chest rises and falls and I'm frozen, my mind so mixed up I can't sort it out. My body pulses with a level of need I've never felt before and all I can think is how badly I want him to kiss me. I could just take it...but I don't want to. Not with him. I want him to take it, but I don't want to beg.

 _Is this...shyness?_

"Professor?"

"Yes?" His heady breath is scented with cinnamon against my cheek.

"What...is happening?" I ask, naively. I know exactly what is happening, judging by the strain evident under the taut fabric of his pants, but I don't have the bravery to make a move.

I've played many scenarios over in my head with him. I would bite back, taking everything he would throw at me and give equal enthusiasm or perhaps he would completely dominate me and I would just bend to his will-the latter would be my favorite outcome. Among all of them, I never thought I would feel so...frustrated with myself. I regret my question immediately.

Especially when he pulls back and slides his stoic mask back into place. Gone is the pull he was exerting on me, replaced with his normal, cold, control and a level of tired I've never seen before. He moves from the couch and paces to the door. "It's late, Miss Howell."

"Oh." I fumble with the blanket, feeling more bereft of the heat that was pouring from Professor Snape, than the sudden absence of warmth from the blanket.

What did I do? What did I not do? The remains of alcohol in my system leave me irritated at his sudden change. _Why didn't he just...take me? Ravage me? Get what he clearly wanted?_

"Um. Well...thanks, I guess." My voice laden with repressed sarcasm, I walk to the door scratching my head. The heat from the floor in his room turns icy as my bare feet meet stone in the hallway outside. "I'll just go home then."

I notice him stiffen as I walk past, like I'd hit him or something. "Your shoes."

"Yeah, I lost them. I'll just go barefoot."

I feel his hand wrap around my forearm and then I'm suddenly flush against his body and suspended on my tip toes. It's so dark in the hallway, I can't make out his features when I look up, he's a mere silhouette against the backdrop of the firelight. My heart pounds in my ears and my limbs feel tingly. He makes a point to slide me down the length of his body to return me to flat feet, and I feel every hard inch of him slide against my hip, his abs defined under my hand.

Man. Pure, rigid man. It's like a sort of claim, like he doesn't want me to forget, but he can't go on.

A moan escapes me and then he lets go. He steps back and I'm dazed until I feel the blanket around my shoulders again and he kneels to place my feet in some shoes...my shoes. My brow furrows. "Where did you get these?"

"Mr. Potter came looking for you, he brought these but not your coat."

Harry. I feel guilt swamp me as I realize he must have been really worried about me when I up and left him like I did. He was trying to look out for me and I didn't care. I make a mental note to try and make it all up-the seducing and the drinking included.

"I'm sorry, Professor." I feel tears at the corner of my eyes and I don't have the strength to keep them from falling. What was I thinking? What do I ever think. "I'm such a mess."

"Nonsense." With a gentle hand at the small of my back, Professor Snape guides me to the door and swipes my tears away. "You just need sleep. Can you make it to the dorms on your own from here?"

I look out of the window in the door. I can tell we are at least somewhat underground as there is a concrete stairwell outside. Up the steps, I see that it's not raining, thankfully, and the sky is free of clouds, the stars shimmering. I also see the familiar shape of the tree I passed out under, he must have seen me from his chamber doors. I know it's at least a ten or fifteen minute walk to the dorms from here, but with the blanket and shoes I'm certain I can handle it. Plus, if the other students saw Professor Snape walking me back to my room at four in the morning in a blanket, him in his pajamas, they might speculate something.

I wish there could be evidence to substantiate those possible claims, but whatever, I'm a coward.

This all felt like a dream anyway. After I sleep, it'll be nothing but a half-drunken memory and everything will go back to the way it was. I'll shove this encounter down deep and pretend it never happened. Just like every hopeful moment in my life.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." I walk outside into the crisp air when Professor Snape opens the door but I can't bring myself to look back at him. "Thank you, again."

"Miss Howell?"

I pause on the stairs and sigh up at the sky. "Yes, sir?"

"This isn't just a dream." I hear the door click shut and I whip around.

 _How did he know what I was thinking?_ He sounded so sad...


	5. FIVE

**Authors note - This is another chapter sans Snape. I'll be posting another chapter on Saturday with Snape (if my mind muse decides to quit being a total insufferable dick). Writers block has me feeling like my writing sounds like cardboard lately (with this story and my other ones)...so hopefully the next chapter doesn't sound too forced or contrived. Let me know what you think. Thank you all for the feedback and I really hope you are enjoying the story. :)**

...

The cafeteria is slowly emptying but I have yet to see Harry anywhere. I pick at my gone-cold food and scan the sparse crowd for his messy hair again. I'm about to give up when I see him walking in last minute with a very cute redheaded girl I recognize as Ginny Weasley.

I made it a point when I started here to memorize as many people as possible. The school isn't that big, so it wasn't hard. I try to be nice to everyone, fluid in my socialization so as to have as many friends as possible and offer my help to anyone who would need it-academically speaking. Never talked to Ginny before, didn't even know she went here because she looks to be like...16 maybe, and too young for college, yet she's here and she _is_ 18-I checked. The only Weasley I've ever spoken to is Ron because he hangs out with Harry and has a hard time keeping up with his schoolwork.

I suppose I come in handy to Ron.

Something about the adorable shy look in Ginny's eyes as she laughs at something Harry says and the way she keeps tucking her hair behind her ear, however, makes me not want to be so handy to her brand of Weasley.

 _Is this...jealousy?_

I'm not sure I even have the right to be jealous, Harry isn't my boyfriend, and I have the hots for a certain brooding Professor. I toss my food in the rubbish bin and plaster on a happy smile as I jog up to them in the pasta cafe line. "Harry! I'm so glad I found you. Can we talk?"

"Rhetta, where have you been?" Harry asks, eyeing me with concern. "You just disappeared Friday night and you weren't around at practice this weekend."

 _I had a massive hangover and looked like The Walking Dead, kinda didn't want the school to see me like that_...or Professor Snape. Definitely not him. I hid in my dorm all weekend under _his_ blanket with my fantasies.

"That's what I want to talk about." I tuck my hair behind my ear and glance at Ginny. She looks lost. _I wish she'd get lost._ "Hello there."

"Hi." Ginny blushes and backs away slightly. "I'll let you two talk. I'll see you in class, Harry." She looks at Harry and then me and then whisks off to one of the other cafe lines.

I look up at Harry to find his eyes glued to the almost clumsy girl. He sighs and I have half a mind to pinch his ear and drag him off. He looks almost dreamy, gone is the witty guy who asked me to dance with a smooth line, and there in his eyes is a guy with a crush borderlining on scared. I was an easy ask, I suppose, since I was his friend and not a shy little redhead.

"What are you doing taking me to the dance, when clearly you like her?" I step in Harry's line of sight with one raised eyebrow. He blushes and stutters, not able to find any words from being put on the spot, but it doesn't matter. I shake my head. "Doesn't matter, I'll go along with it. I didn't come here for this crap." I grumble.

Harry looks down at me, utterly confused, somewhat embarrassed...lost. Those two might belong to one another but I'm not losing my respectable date to the dance over the instinct to ship live people. And I like Harry, he's ground-steadying.

I grab Harry's hand and walk him out into the hallway. We sit down on an old wooden bench under a painting of a fumbling knight and a fat horse. Subconsciously, I wonder if the knight was ever any good at his job because he is running from the horse...sans sword, which is planted firmly in the ground. I shift so that I'm facing Harry and pat his hand. "I wanted to apologize for Friday night."

"What happened to you? Do you normally...do that stuff?" He doesn't look like he's judging me, no, he's just worried like a good friend should be. "You drank like a fish."

"And I don't remember the half of it." I run a hand through my hair and chuckle nervously. "I don't remember much, really. I'm trying to be a decent person here, but when I get upset…"

"It was Snape, wasn't it?" Harry frowns. I like it when he frowns, it's cute. "You were crying when you came out of his office."

"He…" I swallow my words, not wanting to make Harry hate Professor Snape anymore than he already does. "Gave me a demerit for being late and it was my first one so I was really upset."

The lie tastes horrible on my tongue, I hate lying, even though I'm good at it.

Harry gives my hand a squeeze and smiles at me. "He gives them to me all the time. If you want, I can give you tips on getting out of punishment."

"Nah." I smile, cheered up. "I don't mind punishment." Especially because it'll come from _him_. I have issues, but I love them.

Harry casts me an 'oookay' look and laughs. "You're strange sometimes, Rhetta. But that's a good thing. Anyway, you got home ok on Friday then?"

"Yes. And I'm really sorry for what I did, and the running away." The apologies just spill from my mouth in a rush. "I'm sorry for drinking so much and you were looking out for me and I just-"

"It's ok." Harry interrupts me with a soothing look, digging around in his backpack. He pulls out my lost coat and hands it to me. "Really. We all have bad days and I won't hold it against you, ever. I'll see you in class, ok?"

"Wait!" I stand and follow him when he leaves for the cafe. "The dance is Saturday night, what are we wearing?"

That question seems to hit Harry like a brick to the nuts. He slows his pace and stops, cosmically confused, like most men when it comes to fashion, dances and women. "Um...I have no idea."

"Don't worry." I smirk, tip-toeing a kiss to his cheek. "I'll figure it out for you. And I'll make you look damn good for Ginny too. As a thank you for being you."

"You'd do that for me?" Harry touches his cheek where I kissed him, with delayed reaction. "Rhetta?"

I ruffle his hair, probably making it a bit more tame in the process, and giggle. Scrunching my face in sheer delight, I clap my hands behind my back and shuffle off without a word. I might not have the right mind when it comes to my damn self, but I have no qualms helping a friend find true love. I'm not normal, a relationship like that would never suit me...tame and innocent.

It _is_ jealousy. Here, in my chest like a heavy weight.

 _I'm too fucked for gentleness._

I suppose I might be a bit more lost than Ginny and Harry. It would take someone equally as tormented as me to guide me out. Or maybe, it would be better to stay lost...maybe _he_ is there too and maybe _he_ is as fucked as me. Would it be too much to ask for the other half of my soul?

Poetic nonsense. It doesn't suit me one bit. Nope...not at all...I'm not... _sad_.


	6. SIX

**Authors note - Again, sorry for not posting yesterday. I got distracted by Dungeons and Dragons (yes, I play 3.5 and 5 E because 4th is for losersand yes, I am a Tiefling Bard :D lol). Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter and I really hope it doesnt sound like cardboard. Next chapter will be some 'stuff' and some 'things' ;) ;) so yeah, thank you for reading! XD**

...

The air outside on this Friday before halloween is crisp and bright. The sun is shining and the leaves are all dancing their colors in the faint breeze as I head to the Lion's Paw dorms to deliver Harry's outfit for the dance on Friday. My mother, however loose in her morals and crappy a parent she was, left me a substantial fortune when she dropped off the face of the planet last summer. I have no idea is she is alive or not, but each month, money shows up in my bank account and my tuition payments are never late. I haven't talked to her since she disappeared and frankly, I don't really care; she is a better mother being absent from my life than she ever was when she was present.

Anywho, I went to the next town over on Tuesday and spent a good chunk of change on a gold and black dress and matching fanciful tux for Harry. The outfits compliment each other, and remind me of a torrent of bird feathers splashed with ornate golden paint. Harry's outfit is less bird like, but his mask is a slash over the eyes with a few black feathers. My mask is a weave of wisp thin, golden wire with black pearl beads.

Thankfully, the tux fits Harry and he looks damn good in it. After thanking me for it, he asks if I want to hang out. We decide to go walk around town so we cut a path through the woods separating the school from the town on the other side.

"So do you think Ginny will notice me?" Harry asks, his hands folded behind his head casually as he gazes up into the leaves. "You did a good job picking out the outfits."

"Of course." I nudge his side and he sighs, looking at me with that goofy smile of his. _Sometimes I wonder how it is I can be nostalgic for the things I've never experienced_. I look away and watch my feet as we shuffle down the path. I imaging the leaves swallowing up this hollow space in my chest.

"What's wrong Rhetta?"

"It's nothing." I smile, knowing if I told Harry what was really bothering me, he'd think I'm a total whack job. Who in their right mind, at age 18, feels this worn out, or wants a 16 years her senior professor to do naughty things with her? "Say, are you out to make Ginny jealous? Is that why you asked me to the dance?"

Harry blushes. "I didn't have the courage to ask her."

"And you didn't want to go alone."

"No!" Harry stops me at the exit of the path. "That's not it. I just…"

"You just what? I'm not mad or anything, if that is the reason then that's what it is."

Harry sighs again, his green eyes looking a mix of pathetic and pitiful. "Ron overheard you talking with Neville."

"And he told you that neither one of us had been asked yet."

"Yes, but...it's not like I felt sorry for you. Nobody asked me either and I figured maybe if we went together we would have the courage to ask the people we like for a dance, or maybe they would get jealous and ask us."

 _Oh Harry_. I shake my head, laughing. "Nobody likes me and I don't like anybody-" I half-lie. "-like that, like the way you like Ginny."

"But you're always off in your thoughts," He keeps talking because I keep laughing and I wonder how the heck he garnered that info. "In potions, it's Jake isn't it? Ron always sees you ogling him."

Well that answers that. _Oh my god._ Jake sits directly in front of Snape's desk in our chemistry lab, Ron must have thought I was crushing on him! I briefly wonder why Harry called it 'potions' but for some reason, I feel it's not all that important.

"So is it Jake?" Harry presses.

"Sure. It's Jake. You got me." I stifle my laughter and link my arm with Harry, amused by this whole thing I never knew was a thing. Jake is my scapegoat now. I suppose that's a good thing because I didn't know it was all that obvious to people on the outside that I'd been 'ogling' Professor Snape. If only Ron knew the truth... "Does Ron have a thing for me then? Is that why he watches me in chemistry lab?"

"No, I don't think so." Harry scratches his head. "Not sure who he likes really."

The sleepy town of Hogswicke stretches peacefully in front of us as we walk and chat. Warm, cozy and touristy, the town is an open picturebook of small town Great Britain at the foot of the rise of hills that the forest and school sit on. When we get to the bottom of the hill to turn onto main street, both me and Harry notice a head of fiery hair bobbing toward us. I'm hit with an idea.

"Do you really want to make her jealous?" I yank Harry to stop on the sidewalk before Ginny can see us. "If you do, it'll be easy to apologize later." I point to where Jake, my unwitting scapegoat, is talking on his phone outside a coffee shop. I'm not aiming to make Jake jealous, I'm aiming to help Harry out as planned. "You would be helping me out too."

Harry thinks for a split second and then nods. "What do we-"

I cut him off by reaching up and pressing a kiss to his lips. I chance a peek out of my eye to Ginny, whose eyes are wide as dinner plates as she stops in her tracks on the other side of the street; a clench in her jaw lets me know the plan is working. _Oh girl, you should have seen me on Friday! This is tame._

I close my eyes and give her a good show, Harry awkwardly tries his best to make it believable. I open my eyes again to see Ginny has moved on down the street in a huff.

 _Plan success._

But who I didn't expect to see, and who is standing in the door to a shop almost exactly where Ginny had been in the optimal spot to get the full view of Harry and I, is Professor Snape. It feels like a lead weight drops into my stomach and I break the kiss with Harry. But it's too late, Professor Snape probably saw the whole thing.

His black eyes are livid, yet his face gives nothing away. As with our stolen glances in class, I can tell exactly what he is thinking. Instead of making Jake jealous, I've made _him_ jealous. I don't know if that look has a place in his eyes and he wasn't my intended target, but maybe it's a blessing in disguise?

 _It's absolutely dangerous for him to be looking at me like that._

After a brief moment in which I can feel the blaze of his gaze burn my eyes like wildfire, Professor Snape heads off in the direction of the woods. I involuntarily take a step in that direction, but remember that he's a teacher and everything between us is a secret.

"Hey Harry!" Both Harry and I whip around to see Neville and Ron walking toward us.

"We were just about to go get dinner, care to join us?" Neville asks.

"Um," I look up at Harry apologetically, making an excuse to get away and follow Professor Snape. The two of them showing up is like a perfectly timed coincidence. "Actually just remembered I need to get shoes. Do you guys want to come with me before food?" The three guys exchange looks and I know they are thinking that it would be incredibly boring to go shoe shopping with a girl. "That's what I thought. I'll meet you at the restaurant when I'm done, ok?"

They all three look relieved and agree. "We will be at Third and Broom's."

…

My pulse races as I sneak around the building after the guys leave, and I dart into the woods. The leaves crunch noisily under my shoes as I try to catch up with Professor Snape. It's a good thing I'm the fastest runner on the women's softball team, because I soon see his familiar tall frame on the path ahead. He stops and turns around, rooting me in place almost instantly when our eyes lock.

Like a deer in a hunter's sights, or a rabbit trapped in the keen plotting of a snake.

He says nothing, but the arrogant way he is standing lets me know the mask is in place. "In a rush, Miss Howell?"

"No-not really." I swallow hard when he backtracks to where I'm standing, forcing me to crane my neck to look up at him.

He looks a bit more tired than usual, his hair looks like his hands have been shoved in it one too many times today. Again, I ache to comfort him in some way. I almost lift my hand to brush his hair away from his face, but I don't. His eyes travel over my features and land on my lips, what he says next catches me entirely off guard.

"Is it a habit of yours to kiss Mr. Potter and then run away? Do you think I'll pick up your pieces every time?"

"Excuse me?" I stutter, unsure how to react.

"In my office last week, you were about to kiss him when I interrupted. You were at that party with him on friday, wherein I rescued you in the aftermath, and just now." His eyes narrow. "You must really like him to want to kiss him all over like you do."

I go to protest, two of those statements were false and I believe he needs to be corrected about them, but he interrupts me by taking my hand and swiftly ushering me off the path. I open my mouth to ask what the hell he is doing when I hear laughter back on the path behind us. Professor Snape's hand comes to cover my mouth and he presses me against the base of a thick tree. This is totally not the normal him, no, this is the secret him that makes me feel bare in all my clothes in class, the him that haunts my dreams.

Every rational thought leaves me as I practically melt against him. He waits a moment for the people to pass before taking his hand away and snapping his eyes back to mine. I'm panting slightly, residual from my sprint to catch him and also because this feels like the dreamy claim he made on me the other night. "Professor?"

"So do you?"

"Do I…what?" I bite my lip and sort of cower under his demanding demeanor, trying to hide how completely turned on I am by this.

"Don't play dumb." His hands come up to fist a handful of my hair, yanking my head back so I had no choice but to obey. His eyes are filled with a mix of heady desire and torment and I absolutely love it-and the sting of his vicious grip on my hair. "Mr. Potter, of all the boys in this school you had to pick him."

That was a statement and not a question and it sets me off kilter. "What?"

"I thought you were mine." He seethes. "And you go off with him, right in front of me on more than one occasion."

His harsh words both send a tidal wave of need through my core and make me feel guilty for doing as he said I did. I know he dislikes Harry, for whatever reason, and he is really angry. I've never had a guy... _a man_...look at me this way, speak to me this way, or get jealous over me ever. I feel irritated though, despite my enjoyment of this predicament. "It's not like you were ever going to kiss me. You had plenty of opportunity."

His expression darkens into a predatory glare. "I was waiting."

"For what?" I shift on my feet so that I can at least appear to have a backbone and smirk. "The stars to be right?"

Something flashes in his eyes, dissipating before I can analyze it. I know he likes the way I'm responding to him, knew I'd sass him right then. His voice drops a decibel to settle right where I ache for him the most. "Until I could get you alone."

"You had me alone when I was in your room." I retort.

"You were drunk." The hurt he felt from the other night when he told me I shouldn't drink returns again, but he dismisses it just the same. There are so many levels to him it makes me dizzy. "Something always seems to get in the way, it's why I waited. I thought maybe if I ignored this...thing between us, I'd get my opportunity."

He ignored my covert attempts to bring back some normalcy to our 'relationship' while I was in his lecture this week and I made sure I was on time, every time, even to the lab earlier today. But instead of passing close behind me or looking over my shoulder, brushing my hand to look at my work or catching my intense stares with equal heat-like he had for three months-he simply pretended I didn't exist.

"An experiment?" I ask, delighted he went to such extents for this 'thing' we have, even though it was almost insufferable. "I think we both know this is more than just a 'thing', Professor, you know what I want, I know what you want, and I'm completely sober right now, _alone with you_ in the middle of the woods."

"Yes you are." His hand moves from my hair to cup my chin, his thumb sliding over my lips, feeling the little moan escape them. "Finally."

God damn, he looks like he's in pain. Like holding back is killing him, on edge for something to interrupt us. It's still keeping him from devouring me whole, so In true Rhetta/Professor fashion, I opt to burst his bubble just a little.

"There is something in the way though, sir." His thumb twitches and the stare he gives me is downright deadly. I ignore the surge of wetness between my thighs that look causes and give him my sincerest innocent pouty face. "You called me pathetic and tossed my paper in the trash."

"I gave you an A for the paper." He looks at me apologetically. "I should have never said that."

"No, you shouldn't have." I whisper. "It hurt my feelings."

"I'm sorry." His head hangs a bit, weariness climbing into his posture. "Sometimes I say things I don't mean to people who don't deserve it."

My heart does a flip in my chest and I wonder if this is how Harry feels when he looks at Ginny. As much as I crave the erotic tension between the Professor and I, I think I anticipate the little glimpses under his mask much more, the moments in which I should comfort him. I shake those dwelling thoughts off, afraid of what they might mean if I acknowledge them too much. It's true I've never felt so strongly toward another person before, but I need to leave it purely physical for my own sanity.

"I forgive you."

With that he seems satisfied and intensity floods Professor Snape's eyes again. "Is that all, Miss Howell?"

"I don't know, maybe." I try to be serious, but I can't do it anymore. I'm practically mewling. "I think this is what you waited for. Why don't you take it now? There is nothing standing in your way."

Shockingly, he slides that mask of his back over his face, retreating into cold reason. I stammer, trying to find something to say, but I can't even comprehend this development. His finger presses harshly into my lips and he straightens into a stance that dares me to retaliate.

"This is too easy." His voice is both ice in my veins and fire in my belly. "If you can find me at the dance tomorrow, we will both have what we want."

As I am left alone in a honeyed pool against the tree in the wake of the Professor's exit, I realize that he just challenged me.

And I can't wait to conquer it.


	7. SEVEN

**SEXUAL CONTENT - Mature readers only please.**

 **Authors note - I debated weather or not to post this chapter because I'm having a hard time weaving the story properly. I hope it doesn't give too much away :(**

 **Let me know what you think of the 'scene' please, and thanks so much for reading, hope I don't freak you out lol.**

...

 _Saturday, October 31st,_

 _Diary entry, turning point:_

 _For some reason, I don't dream. I can't remember the last time I actually saw anything but blackness when I lay down. I just go to bed at night and wake up in the morning; the time in between just seems to...not exist. Like my bank account that never runs out and certain words like 'potions' that just won't stop echoing around...it's all so strange, episodic. It's even hard for me to simply imagine things when I shut my eyes in the daytime. I can't remember what my mother looked like, or the things that have happened to me recently._

This, I write first thing Saturday morning while fighting a headache.

By lunchtime...my diary is blank and I don't remember writing anything down at all, but the headache lingers.

I only remember the clouds outside my window, passing peacefully through the blueness between. My only thoughts are of Professor Snape and how I might find him at the dance.

He's the only thing...the only thing I need to think about at all.

Nothing else matters.

…

"We showed up together, it would be strange not to have a dance." Harry follows me into the hall outside the ballroom. "You have danced with everyone _but_ me."

The halls are gilded and yellow, silver and black, blue, red and green. You open any page from a 'Carnival' informative from Venice and the whole of the ballroom all the way to the ends of the school lawn would be decorated nearly identical and equally extravagant-like a dream. Students in varying states of dress-up effort drift in through the doors, gather around the banquet strech or dance under the chandeliers. I think them like a crowd of ghosts, long dead, shimmering under the crystalline scatters of light, casting ethereal shadows onto the walls; their masks like make-believe shrouds sent to confuse me.

I've recognized some of the faces and eyes underneath the endless shrouds that I've danced with, but not the one I'm questing for.

I feel like I'm failing _his_ challenge.

"I'm sorry, Harry." I place one hand on the stone wall and the other on my flushed cheek. "It's too hot in there and I'm wore out, I need a minute to myself."

The truth is, I've felt off all day. And it's not just my head that won't stop pounding. I was taking a shower and grew so dizzy I nearly fainted. I feel like I should be ill, but I have no temperature and something just keeps telling me I'm fine, in the back of my head...I'm fine.

"Okay." Harry guides me over to a bench under one long, cathedral window. "Do you need anything?"

I chuckle. "I need you to go have fun, find Ginny and ask her for a dance. I danced with all those guys so that Ginny would think I wasn't interested in you." I saw her skulking around and watching me. The look she gave Harry as he sat alone at our table let me know I was doing it right. "She'll want to dance with you, trust me. Just go find her...I'll be alright in a minute."

I watch Harry disappear into the teeming ballroom before sneaking off down the hallway and into the darkened wing of the school. The farther away from the party I get, the better I feel, the sharper my senses. I pass by locked classrooms that seem to stretch eternally. I don't remember the school being so big, or confusing-like it's deliberately steering me in the direction I'm not supposed to go.

Or, perhaps, in the direction I _am_ supposed to go.

I stop at the doors that lead to the back lawn. One of them is propped open so I step outside into the dark. Like a spell that has a dainty hold on my wrist, I feel tugged into the night. I hear laughter and giggling from a bush nearby and see Oliver Wood and the dark haired girl from the frat party with their hands all over eachother.

Or perhaps they are ghouls shrieking in the night. I have a bad feeling.

Their faces blur into something twisted and devilish, the robes embroidered with the emblem of a griffin billow out from their forms to spook me. They take long, ragged breaths in the frigid air and it makes me feel hollow. My bare feet are frozen to the ground...which is covered in a deep layer of snow. The thin nightgown I'm wearing is scratchy.

The ghouls twist at at the sound of someone shouting and a flare of light; they run away into the sky. _Cowards._

Something glints in my periphery, decorations-no, a vicious metal fence-outlines and blocks the entrance to the deplorable hedge garden so that students won't go in there, or make their way to the rickety boat house by the lake. It's a sign that the invisible hand gestures violently to, as if telling me that is where I _have_ to go, like it's life or death that I do so. I chalk all this surrealness to the atmosphere of the party and swat off my incessant, imaginary guide. "You, sire, are really stupid."

My head lolls to the side and I barely catch myself from falling off the bench.

I blink and take off my mask to rub my eyes. _Did I fall asleep?_

Like in my dream- _no..._ I shake my head. _I don't dream...yes, I do, what a silly thought_ -something catches my eye and I look over to the ballroom doors just in time to see a figure dance by with someone. The figure, tall and imposing, is dressed in all white, his hair is draped regally over his shoulders like a waterfall of starlight, shimmering silver, and his blank mask covers all but his lips, jawline and eyes. But it's not the magnificence of his attire that I hone in on, it's the dark irises that meet mine when he spins his partner into the crowd.

A beckoning glance over his shoulder as if to say, 'have you given up already?' or, 'what are you doing out there in the dark, Miss Howell? Come to me.'.

I can hear that deep sardonic tone of his even when he says nothing-it ignites a fire in my belly.

I affix my mask again and slip back into the suffocating heat rolling off the foray of bodies in hot pursuit-this time, the party does not drain me and my headache is totally gone. As I weave in and out, skirt around and sometimes shove my way through all the people, the Professor remains just out of reach.

It irritates me to no end. I thought this was supposed to be a challenge to weed him out of the others, which I've done, now it feels like he's taunting me, pressuring me to break.

So I stop to wait for him, attempting to lay a trap, just in time for a waltz to strike up.

Where they were disorganized before, the dancers quickly pair up and form into lines. I'm exposed, alone on the middle of the dance floor amid a whirl of colors. I try to escape, but everytime I do, the music changes and the dancers barricade me in again.

I'm about to barrel my way through, when my hand is caught by a white glove with long fingers that envelop mine, pulling me flush against the hard body to which it is attached. Before I can think, I'm whisked off into the frenzied waltz. The glove's pair rests steady against the small of my back where the bodice of my sleeveless dress meets the explosion of black feathered tulle at the top of my rear. I gape up at the person leading me and straight into those black eyes, seemingly backlit with something darker than usual.

It's thrilling.

I swallow hard and focus on not tripping, letting the music and the Professor guide me. I can't look away from his eyes as the tension in them grows with the final crescendo of the waltz. Like a string pulled too tightly, when the song stops, he snaps. A wicked grin tugs at the corner of his unmasked lips and, like he had in the woods, he tugs me out of the ballroom-this time in full view of all the students. But if they noticed, or knew it was the brooding Professor Snape dressed in his opposites dragging me off, I didn't see.

My low heels click loudly and irregular on the flagstone floor in stark contrast to the silent methodical ones of the Professor as he leads me through a twisting series of halls and doors. "Where are we going?"

He says nothing as we cross a threshold I didn't see and barrel down an old set of stone steps. I'm utterly lost, letting all my faith and trust gather where my hand is held by his. The farther he leads me, the more excited I become.

Suddenly we stop near a set of familiar wooden doors to the right, and the one for the stairwell outside his chambers. As he unlocks the door and ushers me inside, I feel slightly afraid. _He brought me to his room._

And my frisson of fear is justified by the way the Professor turns to look at me. He slips his hand out of my grip and once again, pulls me against him. He removes his mask-which the silvery wig is attached to-dropping it to our feet in a silky mop and dips his head. I close my eyes, my pulse slamming against my neck. I expect him to kiss me but he doesn't, so I open my eyes. He looks so serious.

"This is what you wanted?" He breathes against my face, a lock of his hair falling over his eye. "From the second we met?"

I take a brief second to think about it, about the way he posed the question as if he was uncertain of my resolve. He wants my consent, but he is giving me one last out. If I say no now, I know I'll never get another chance like this. All those glances and burning desire laced in each of our encounters would be for nothing.

I nod. "Yes."

"Then I hope you are prepared." He crashes his lips to mine, his tongue sweeping inside. I moan, loving the pain of his bite when he pulls back. "I'm not going to be gentle with you."

Instantly, I feel the tug of my zipper being pulled down my back. He steps back and watches as my dress falls into a bunch at my feet. I watch him watch me, a hunger so voracious in his eyes as they wander up my legs to where the black garter belt is clipped into my stockings and onward to the strapless, lace bra in equal black as the garter.

I shiver, feeling sexier than I have in my entire life.

I was finally on display for someone whom I actually wanted to see me this way.

"Do whatever you want." I pant.

He makes some sort of split second decision before I'm scooped up, his hands gripping the back of my thighs hard. I gasp, clasping at the collar of his outfit. Before I can react, He tosses me onto his massive bed. I let out a surprised yelp, bouncing slightly into a sitting position.

"Turn over onto your stomach, Rhetta."

I flush red at the use of my first name, unaccustomed to it and because if I do as he says, I'll be quite vulnerable. Still, I obey, shifting to my knees and turning to lay on my stomach. Not a second later, his gloved hands slip my heels off. They are tossed aside and I curl my toes as I feel those same gloves sample the skin where the stockings expose my thigh and up, over the globe of my rear.

"On your knees." He pats one cheek firmly and I scramble to push up onto all fours.

"Ah!" I scream when I feel him force my legs apart and grip the crotch of the lace panties under the garter. I whip my head around just in time to see unhinged savagery on his face-true to his un-gentle promise. He locks eyes with mine and in one yank, he rips my panties off.

I shudder violently from the sting.

His hands grip my hips, flip me over and yank me to the edge of the bed. I look up as he hovers over my body, positioned between my legs so I can't close them. One hand skims over my belly and up to my chest. He finds the clasp in the center of my bra and snaps it open. The cups fly to the sides and my breasts fall shamelessly out in a slow bounce.

His eyes darken when he sees the way my nipples pucker into tight peaks under his gaze. He takes in every detail, making me feel like the most desirable thing in the world. I can't take it, I need him to touch me.

"Taste them." I bite my lip as I bring my hands up to his, pulling his glove off. "Touch me."

His stare locked with mine, the Professor slips his hand between us and parts my aching sex with his fingers. When he finds me wet, his jaw clenches and that savage control seems to shatter, hanging on by a thread. "I want you to beg."

"Please." My head falls back onto the luxurious bedspread, my hips shifting, searching for friction. I want to beg him, I want to please him. "Professor...please touch me."

I twitch as he finds my most sensitive spot and plunges a finger into me. He hooks and drags it over and over through me as his thumb works it's magic. I've never been touch like this, as if he knows the precise rhythm to move, the right pressure to use. I've never came by anyone's effort but my own. I want to tell him that, but I think he might already know from the way my body is reacting with a mind of it's own. With a groan, his teeth find my nipples and he pulls one into his mouth, sucking hard before moving to the next one. I cry out, my body writhing under his as I shove my hands into his hair and encourage him.

Only seconds later, I can no longer control myself as with one final swipe over my clit, I barrel into an orgasm so intense my vision blurs. My back bows off the bed and the Professor soaks it all in greedily. "Professor!" I collapse down again, my chest heaving.

The Professor stands up, bringing his glistening fingers to his lips. I tremble as he licks my orgasm from them one by one. "You're sweeter than I imagined." He smirks, smacking his lips. "Speechless?"

"You…" I swallow, unsure if I should ask this question because it seems stupid. The man here with me now is a man unrestrained, so unlike the man I'm used to. But the Professor waves me on as he slips his other glove off and begins to unbutton the vest over his tunic. "Have you done this before?"

His hand stops briefly but continues it's path along the many buttons. He avoids my gaze and I wonder if I've ruined the moment, but then he looks at me and I see that the desire there has not diminished. "I've been with one other woman before."

I cock my head to the side. "How are you so...good with your fingers then?"

"It's not practice in this sense," He gestures to my near nudity, the stockings and garter belt all that's left of my clothing-besides my mask. "In my mind, I've thought of a thousand ways to bring you down. with you, only you, can I let it all go."

I swallow, buzzed by his statement. "Did you have much practice with your other partner?" I go to sit up to help him with his buttons, but he pushes me back down with a firm glare. I pout and that amuses him.

"Enough questions." He shucks the vest from his shoulders along with his shirt, revealing pale skin and a tight, toned chest and firm abdomen. I feel a full body clench when I slide my gaze down to where he is straining against his trousers. "I don't need practice to know how to deal with you."

Emboldened, I blink innocently at him. "And how are you going to do that?"

Heat courses through me when, without any hesitation, the Professor whips his belt off, wraps the leather around his fist and frees himself from his pants. The bright white slacks fall from his hips and I gape when I see that he is completely bare beneath them. _He was prepared._

I imagine, if he had cornered me in a hall instead of bringing me here, he might have ravaged me against the wall without removing a scrap of our clothing-but still destroying my panties probably.

I feel my eyes widen when they land on the thing I've fantasized about for a long time. An impressive sight, and capped with dark hair, he grips the base of his cock and strokes his pale, taut girth softly, his heavy lidded eyes appraising me laid out for him.

I feel beautiful and more aroused than I have in my entire life.

"Look at you there, boneless in my bed." He bends down and retrieves a condom from his trousers, opens it and swiftly sheathes himself. "Are you ready for me to show you how I'm going to deal with you, Miss Howell?"

The sight of his fingers working the condom down engorged shaft has me salivating. I bring my hands to my sex and pet the swatch of neatly trimmed, dark blonde hair above it. His nostrils flare primally, he takes a step forward and plunges deep within me, to my very core. My eyes shoot wide in surprise at how blissfully painful it feels to have him there. A strangled scream escapes my throat as he pulls out and then slams back in.

"I told you." Professor Snape growls, gripping my wrists and pinning them above my head. I feel him work the belt off his hand and secure my wrists with it. I briefly wonder what the point of the belt is, but I like the way it feels to be at his mercy. "Now that you are here, little tease, you are mine."

I tug my wrists apart to test it, the leather biting into my skin, but the belt doesn't budge. "I'm yours, Professor."

Still seated deep within me, he shifts us so that we are near the intricate headboard and hooks the belt to it. His hands slide down the delicate flesh of my under arms, roughly over my breasts to grip the jut of my hip bones. He pulls almost all the way out and slams back in with such force it shakes the heavy bed with an unexpected squeak.

My cry is muffled by the decor in the room and the Professor's lips, but nonetheless loud. With every thrust, I feel more and more helpless, more and more like I belong to him. He angles my hips just right that his cock drags over a spot so far inside me I wouldn't have ever guessed it existed. Over and over, he milks what he wants from my body, giving me everything I ever desired.

"Harder." I beg, sliding my legs up his and wrapping them around his hips so that I can match him thrust for thrust.

"You are a wild one." But the look in his eyes says he is the wild one. Something told me I was fulfilling something inside him by letting have me like this, and it only urged me onward, taking his violence in stride.

 _I'll have bruises in the morning._ I think, and then I fully hope that it's true.

I feel myself coming to the edge again when he presses his hips flush against mine and takes a long drag across my flesh, across that spot inside me too. Once more and I'm spiraling into bliss, my mouth moving unintelligibly. Through my orgasm, I feel him becoming frantic in his movements, losing control as his hands slip over my sweat soaked skin. With a hiss of my name, he pulls from me, rips the condom off, collapses onto one hand to support himself and spurts his climax over my stomach in a hot explosion.

Dazed, I watch the way he strokes every drop from himself, making sure all of it lands somewhere on my skin, painting it... _claiming it_.

For several extended moments, we both marvel at the rapidly cooling liquid on myself, the way my chest rises and falls and my heart beats a crazy tattoo against my ribs.

Then the heady charged atmosphere fades. The Professor doesn't meet my eyes as he silently unhooks the belt and rubs the blood back into my hands and wrists. I feel apprehension creep into my shaking body. I can't move because I'm so spent and I feel like he might abandon me now.

I'm totally lost. I blink, seeing a dark and empty room expanding around me, the Professor gone, footsteps echoing around me off the high walls. Strangely, I smell the sterile scent of a hospital before I crash back into _his_ scent and the vivid glimpse into whatever that was fades.

Surprisingly, the Professor smiles down at me, guarded, before he lifts me bridal-style into his arms and carries me to his bathroom. "Let's get you cleaned up."

I relax and remind myself that everything is fine. I'm with Professor Snape, I trust him.

But I can't shake the feeling that something strange is going on.

And this time, I have to hold on to it.


	8. EIGHT

**Authors note - This chapter is suitable for those under 18, I will post a warning at the top of each chapter that is only suitable for mature readers. Hope this chapter gives you insight into what is going down and also leaves you with some questions. I've decided to post chapters as soon as I'm satisfied with the editing, so there will be no longer a set schedule for new chapters. (some weeks will have 2 posts others might only have 1...all depends on what my brain wants to do lol!) Enjoy! Thanks for reading and all the comments! :)**

...

The little ripples from the lake lap against the rickety mooring in a sloshy, half frozen attempt to stay awake. I hug my knees to my chest to keep warm, my breath catching in the cold air-for whatever reason, I find myself wearing the scratchy gray hospital gown again and I don't have a coat...or shoes. I look out over the warped planks and into the mist hovering above the lake from where my back is resting against the glass panel windows of the boathouse.

 _Melancholy._

This place, whether it is reality or simply a deeper state of my consciousness, is that...drab and lifeless. The beautiful white snow accumulating in drifts outside the boathouse should, I think, be a lot more cheerful-wasn't this place always cheerful? I see an image of Doctor...no, Professor Dumbledore and feel a pang of sadness. This place has been drained since he has been gone. And the lurking black cloaks over the lake, adding a touch of horror to the whole scene, seem to drain what little happiness might be left in hiding.

"Dementors." I mutter their name, but have no idea how I know that.

It's like my mind is the sky...the base expanse medium is always there (language, my name, faces and certain information), but the details, the story...my memories...they are like the weather. They come and they go, but they never stick for very long and sometimes they never come back at all-not that I'd remember them if they did anyway.

When I'm in the other place, the place that is here but not here, I don't worry about the changes, they seem inconsequential. It's only when I switch to this place that I begin to worry what is happening to me. If it weren't for Severus and that little soothing thing in the back of my mind, I would say I'm going insane.

"Did I just call him Severus?" My teeth chatter and I tuck my bare toes under the hem of the gown. "That seems...so strange."

Stange also, another difference from the other place, is my body. Here, it is weak and listless, my skin is thin, my body is very small and my blonde hair is cut in a pixie style instead of being long. I'm terrified to catch my reflection in anything for fear of what state of unhealth I would see in my eyes. Are they even the same hazel color as the other place?

"Just what is happening to me?" I sigh, debating if I have the strength to walk back to the school.

"I knew I would find you here." I jump slightly at the soft, yet commanding voice and turn to see that it's Severus. Unlike over There, his sudden appearance doesn't affect me as much. He looks out of breath, haggard and stiff and it makes me feel pathetic. "Did you not see the coat and shoes I left out for you?"

I shake my head, I can't remember even getting here. "I didn't see them...I was just...here."

His lips form into a pressed line and he thinks a moment while he looks over my body. "They really want you to die, don't they?"

"Who wants me to die?" For some reason, I think this is a joke...like a threat with no bite. I furrow my brow. "Those two...Carrows?" Severus waits patiently while I order my jumbled thoughts. "Thats right. They keep leaving the door unlocked."

Severus sighs and wraps a blanket around me and then picks me up. "They don't think you are worth the trouble." A hint of a smile touches his lips, letting me know that he doesn't think so.

I smirk through a violent cold tremble, although that smile made me feel all sorts of warm inside. "You could just belt me to the headboard again and then I won't leave."

"Very funny, Rhetta." Severus says with a reprimanding look. "I would never really do that to you here."

"Then why did you over there?" I take a good look at him while he silently carries me out of the boathouse. Here, he looks a lot more exhausted, and I have a feeling it's because of whatever he is doing for me. A wave of guilt hits me and I look away.

"Don't feel guilty." He squeezes me gently. "When you are fully capable of remaining awake and no longer need the other place, I will explain everything to you." He looks down at me, those dark eyes of his hinting at another smile. "I only belted you over there because you fantasized about it for months. I wanted our firs-" He stops his thought abruptly and looks away from me, his own guilt passing over his features. "I'm sorry."

I untuck my hand from the blanket and brush his cheek with my knuckles. He closes his eyes, stopping on the path and leans into my touch. This moment, it's as if he is stealing it. He was never like this when I first met him, back when I was a student (I bothered him to no end...this much I remember, although no images come with it). His shell has melted, for me I think, but I know deep down that it's at great cost. "Severus."

He hesitates and then glances back to me. "The way I made love to you in the dream...it was simply me using the spell to give you what you wanted, the energy you could never have here. Here, I was gentle with you and I cared for you afterward the way I care for you everyday. Rhetta…"

Tears prick my eyes at the sadness in his voice. I feel like he had wanted to wait until I was better to touch me. Images flash back to me and I know that at that time, since I saw the hospital room, I was teetering between worlds and fully capable of getting what I wanted even though the blissful violence was just from a spell. "Please don't regret doing it. I trust you."

He carries me in silence for a little while. I curl into his body for warmth and watch my glaringly pale feet, dangled helplessly over his arm, bounce under the hem of the blanket with each long stride. I think about what he said, that he cares for me every day and it warms the hole inside me a bit more. But, even though I feel like I must have asked this a thousand times, I want to know. "Where are my memories?"

"The good ones are safe and you will get them back eventually, when your mind can handle the stress." He seems to carefully chose his words, like a litany he prepared for this question. "You asked me to destroy the bad ones, so they are long lost and irretrievable."

"Why?"

"Because they got you into this mess, both intentionally, by your own accord and mine, and inadvertently." He stops suddenly and looks around, on guard. The school grounds are just like the lake and the boathouse, void of any of the happiness that once thrived here. We are standing on the edge of the woods, the castle's warmth just a few paces away.

Severus abruptly looks at me, mutters something, and I feel a sharp pain in my head, but I know to just let it pass, do not resist. I hear his voice speak from inside my mind, ' _Do not talk, whatever you do, say nothing for the remainder of your time here._ '

I nod, unsure of how to talk back to him in that manner. It's frustrating.

From the woods emerges two brutish looking men. _The Carrows_. I know them, but I also don't, I just know that around them I have to pretend to be totally helpless, and that they don't think I'm worth the trouble-whatever that means. I feel that way, but the sky of my mind tells me that at one point...these two were very afraid of what I was once capable of-of what Severus is working to make me capable of once more. Needless to say, they don't like me.

One of them sneers, his beady eyes raking in my appearance. "I see the Weapon has escaped once again."

 _Weapon?_ Oh, thats right...thats what Alecto calls me. The other one...can't remember his name, calls me 'the Experiment'. I feel like laughing, but I keep myself in check.

Severus's deep voice takes on a tone of sheer authority, cold and unflinching. "This will be reported to the Dark Lord, Alecto." Alecto's haughty sneer fades instantly. Severus narrows his eyes on the two of them. "I shall inform him that, once again, after you two were done with Miss Howell, she was able to wander off-" Severus interrupts the two men's stammering. "You two have meddled enough in this matter, you should hope for his leniency."

Trying to muster a backbone, I see Alecto shift on his feet. His brother mimics the movement. "You told the Dark Lord the Weapon would be finished a month ago. I should think he would be impatient with _you_."

"Silence." Severus snaps, harshly. The two lose their bit of backbone and I inwardly cheer, loving this commanding side of Severus. "The Dark Lord knows this is a tedious matter, and He will not need to use her until the spring at any rate. Delicate care with her is of utmost importance."

"She's going to die before then." The other Carrow says matter-of-factly, eyeing me with unfiltered disdain. "We should be preparing her funeral, not treating her with care."

I can practically feel the rage pouring off of Severus at this statement. Somewhere I know that the Carrows oversee certain things about me, but they are never gentle about it-that's the only time Severus cannot protect me. I remember the masquerade and how ill I felt until Severus, the Professor, came back to me and made it all go away. He must be masking the pain they inflict with something...Again, I wonder what is wrong with me that I am in this state when I'm Here. I feel a headache start at the back of my eyes and my head lolls against Severus's shoulder.

"See," The other Carrow gestures to me. "She will be dead as a doornail before the snow begins to melt. Weak and worthless, with that condition, she is."

"Not to the Dark Lord." Severus calmly says through the torrent of hate inside of him, giving nothing away. He turns his back to the Carrows and strides away confidently. "You would do well to remember that, He shows no mercy to those who foil his plans."

All this talk of the Dark Lord, whoever the crap he is, makes me feel delirious with confusion. I just have to trust, as always, that Severus knows what he is doing.

That he is going to save me.

Because I know I am important.

' _Legilimens_.' I hear Severus say in my head after laying me down in the private hospital room where I am being kept. I feel the familiar background presence of his mind and I am comforted. Though, his face is stoic and I can't tell what he is thinking. He waves his wand once more, softly incanting. "Stupify."

I fade into the nothingness between my worlds.


End file.
